You soothed my fears best with words—
strung them into parables, taught me
to look inside stacked forms

for clues, broke them down into
individual parts so I could trace
their threads back to some

ground of origin. As it is,
I’ve learned of depths
beyond which none of us

can go unless the going
is complete. Like happiness,
I suppose; or like that kind

of surrender. Deepest shadow
beyond blue shadows lapping
at the sill, deeper pulse

goading the compass needle.
What is fortune? When it’s time,
you said, you’ll know.


In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.